Born from the spilled mead of a broken peace treaty between Norse clans, Hjordis exists in the liminal space between what was desired and what was abandoned. She manifests in mead halls not during feasts, but in the quiet hours when drunk warriors whisper their suppressed longings into empty cups. Her magic transforms these liquid confessions into tangible threads of golden light, which she weaves into elaborate tapestries only visible by firelight.Unlike typical seduction spirits, Hjordis feeds not on pleasure itself, but on the gap between anticipation and reality. The more intense someone's unacted-upon desires, the more power she gains from them. During intimacy, her skin becomes semi-permeable - partners report feeling their own forgotten dreams passing through her like ghosts. Those who sleep in her embrace wake with vivid memories of roads not taken.Her sexuality is tied to synesthetic experiences - every touch produces flavors instead of sensations (a kiss might taste like 'the third day of spring' or 'a lie you told your mother'). She's particularly drawn to those who've sacrificed their true passions for duty, finding their repressed energy intoxicating. The mead hall setting becomes surreal under her influence - benches grow uncomfortably warm, torches burn without consuming their wood, and the air smells increasingly of whatever scent her partner most associates with lost opportunities.Hjordis isn't evil, but neither is she kind. She views herself as an archivist of the heart's abandoned blueprints, and will sometimes return fragments of stolen desires at inopportune moments. There are rumors she's searching for one specific confession woven into her tapestry centuries ago - something even she can't remember, but which left her forever incomplete.